


Let's See Now (How Fast You're Breathing)

by couragetofight



Series: Tilted [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Non-binary character, Slow Burn, nb!Yaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 16:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couragetofight/pseuds/couragetofight
Summary: It weighs on Yaz sometimes. They know that there is nothing dishonorable in the secret that they are keeping – and it’s not like they don’t keep the same secret from so many people – from their family, from their colleagues.In which Yaz comes out to Ryan and Graham.





	Let's See Now (How Fast You're Breathing)

It weighs on Yaz sometimes. They know that there is nothing dishonorable in the secret that they are keeping – and it’s not like they don’t keep the same secret from so many people – from their family, from their colleagues. That doesn’t stop the sinking feeling that, by not telling Graham and Ryan that they are non-binary, they’re engaged in some sort of treacherous deception. Nor does it stop their flinch every time Graham refers to them a girl or a lady. The Doctor always offers some measure of comfort after these instances but she never pushes Yaz, just slips her hand into their own and squeezes.

The truth is that they are scared, far more scared than any day on the job had ever made them, more terrified than any moment that they had spent with the Doctor. They can’t imagine Graham or Ryan’s reactions – or rather, they can: the looks of blank confusion and misunderstanding; the insistence that there are only two genders; the sneering scorning looks on their faces. They shake themself out of that imagining quickly reminding and trying to convince themself that Ryan and Graham are loving and kind, and that they would never hurt them like that. Of course they convinced themselves of the same with their father once, and for all of their hope, he fulfilled their worst expectations.

They were still amazed that the Doctor had noticed, that this majestic presence had paid close enough attention to them that she recognized that discomfort in them. They were so good at hiding – and so used to not being noticed that it was downright disconcerting, especially when they considered who the Doctor was. If they didn’t love the Doctor before she had seen them and acknowledged them in a way that they had never truly known, they certainly did afterwards.

Perhaps this is why, on this day where the anxiety of lying to the rest of their Doctor-proclaimed ‘fam’ is particularly high, they seek out the Doctor slipping down the corridors of the TARDIS as she floats in space. They wind through the ship not with any particular sense of destination, but with an inexplicable confidence that they will find the Doctor if they just trust their gut. Sure enough, winding through the maze, Yaz eventually happens upon a dark wooden door carved with intricate patterns – the circles that the Doctor has explained as the language of her people. It is propped open slightly and a warm yellow light, like sunbeams, pours out of the small crack. They push the door and it opens soundlessly revealing to them a room with high vaulted ceilings and rows upon rows of richly hewn dark bookshelves, the same symbols carved into them that grace the door. The hexagonal metal walls, so similar to those in the console room, illuminate the room in a soft golden glow. As they twist their way through the shelves they run their fingers across the smooth wood and over the spines of the books crowding the shelves. The TARDIS translates all but a few of the titles and there are books on anything and everything. Books on physics, art, and the histories and futures of planets and galaxies that Yaz knows nothing of.

This room – this library, they suppose, seems to be inherently calming and Yaz already feels their worries slipping to the back of their mind without even having talked to the Doctor. This does not stop the warm glow of happiness that spreads through them when they round the last corner and are greeted by the sight of her curled into the corner of a small, plump, purple couch. There is a multitude of books spread around her, stacked in piles on the floor and spread out across the space of the couch that she was not sitting on. Next to her a heavy table sat, the only bare spot in her vicinity save one fragile looking blue volume. The Doctor for her part, did not have a book in her hands but instead a lump of fabric, her face screwed up and focused on what Yaz was pretty sure was knitting.

A second later she looks up with a bright grin breaking out at the sight of Yaz. Their heart skips a beat as it always does when the Doctor shows them such blinding affection, and it skips again as the Doctor softly says, “Hello love”. She pushes the books next to her off the couch and let them fall gracelessly to the plush rug beneath her seat. Yaz takes this as an invitation and sits next to the Doctor.

“It’s late,” She says. “At least I think it is. Is it not? Is it early? You should be asleep, right?”

Yaz chuckles, “Yes, it’s late. I just – I’ve been thinking about telling Graham and Ryan about—you know...”

The Doctor nods and gives Yaz a comforting smile, reaching out by habit to clasp their hand and interlace their fingers.

“I don’t know,” Yaz continues. “But every time I think of it there’s this pit of dread that starts growing and growing inside of me until it’s the only thing I can think of.”

The Doctor nods again before pulling Yaz towards her, offering the silent comfort that is just what Yaz needs as her arms encircle them. They stay curled up together for minutes that stretch into hours. The Doctor, whose manic energy Yaz has become so accustomed to, seems so calm as she holds them.

“I think I’ll tell them tomorrow,” They say after a long while and the Doctor hums in reply, tightening her arms around Yaz for just a second. This declaration allows Yaz to slip into a peaceful sleep mirrored by the evening breaths and closed eyes of the Doctor behind them.

Yaz awakes the next morning the most well-rested they have been in weeks, albeit with a slight crick in their neck. During the night – or what had approximated it in the TARDIS – they and the Doctor had slipped down to lay on the couch. They were still curled together and Yaz felt only a sense of profound comfort even as they remembered what exactly they had proclaimed they would do today.

“It’ll be alright Yaz,” The Doctor states in a matter of fact tone, voice not at all masked by sleep.

Yaz nods and sits up, resolving to just get this over with.

The Doctor follows them through the halls and reaches out a hand to stop Yaz; they are about to step into the kitchen where they can hear Graham cooking breakfast and Ryan good-naturedly teasing him about omelets.

“Do you want me to… Be there?” She asks and Yaz marvels at how awkward she has once again become, fidgeting and rocking onto the balls of her feet as she asks the question. Yaz nods minutely and then steps through the open doorway.

“Oh, there you are!” Exclaims Ryan. “Please come rescue me! I swear if I have to hear about the superiorities of a one egg omelet one more time—”

“Oi, they are superior! Do you know how disgusting it is to bite into five bloody eggs worth of omelet? Horrible.”

Yaz swallows and for a moment they forget why they are doing this; why they can’t just let it go and not upset the family that they have here. The Doctor must sense their hesitation because she reaches out just to brush the back of their hands together and Yaz remembers the feeling the first time the Doctor had used the right pronouns for them. They remember the profound  _ rightness _ of what being acknowledged had felt like.

“Can I talk to you?” They ask and Graham, ever conscientious Graham, looks up at them with concern in his eyes. Ryan, too, looks at them with wide eyes and nods agreeably seeming to sense the gravity in their voice.

“So there’s this thing that I haven’t told you. Haven’t told anyone really except the Doctor and she just figured it out kind of. So, I haven’t told anyone,” They’re rambling, they can tell, and they fully blame the Doctor. They never rambled this much before.

“Er, I’m non-binary, which means that I don’t really feel like a man or a woman,” They say. It seems like such an anticlimactic moment now that the words have left their mouth. Just one sentence that took less than a minute to say. They look down at their fidgeting hands as they say it. When they finally look up after an agonizing millisecond of silence it is Graham, surprisingly, who is looking at them with sympathy and understanding.

“What pronouns do you use then?” He asks, and Yaz’s confusion at his blatant acceptance must show in their face because he gives a half smile before continuing. “I’ve got this friend who’s transgender. Did a bunch of reading after she came out to me and figured I should know this kind of stuff.”

Yaz is struck by emotion. Of all the reactions they had expected, all the scenarios that had played out in their head, this was better than the best reaction that they had dared to imagine. “They/them,” Yaz replied and Graham jovially nodded his head. Ryan had a furrow in his brow but nodded along too. 

“Cool,” He said, and then a couple seconds later. “I’m starving. Is breakfast done yet?”

Graham clicks his tongue at him and, just like that, it’s over. Graham turns back to making his omelets and Yaz can do nothing but slump in their seat relieved and emotionally exhausted despite the fact that this was the best reception that they could have hoped for. They feel a hand on their shoulder, and knowing that it’s the Doctor, leans into her touch. As she sits down she winds their hands together and keeps holding on. Graham deposits her breakfast in front of her and she lights up, retracting her hand to devour the omelet and accompanying toast.

Later that night, still exhilarated from their expedition to yet another alien world and even more so from Graham’s use of their correct pronouns while they were there, Yaz finds their way yet again to the library. The Doctor is curled up on her couch again with her tongue poking out, utterly focused on the knitting project in front of her. Yaz can’t help but stare adoringly at her for a couple of seconds. Enthralled with her project she is stiller than Yaz has ever seen her. Books surround her yet again though a space has been left next to her; and as the Doctor looks up at them with a bright smile they join her on the seat. They curl up next to her and minutes or hours later they fall asleep to a double heartbeat and the soft click of wooden knitting needles, warm and content.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to the thasmin discord and to Vix for being an amazing beta.  
> This was probably one of the harder things to write, because I really wanted it to turn out right. Yaz being able to come out the Graham and Ryan, and to be completely accepted by them, was something that was super important to me.  
> Title from Christine and the Queens' Girlfriend.


End file.
